"I look so incredibly horrible in this," Lena called from the dressing room. The dress was huge and looked more like a tablecloth then a bridesmaid's gown. A pepto pink hue topped off the dress, making it probably the most horrifying piece of clothing since Bjork's swan ensemble.
"Show us!" Marissa demanded as she and Summer looked through a bridal magazine.
"No way!" Lena yelled back, "You couldn't pay me to wear this thing in actual daylight."
"Please," Livvy piped up, running over to the door. She stuck her foot underneath and shook it around, while trying to peak through the slats. "Leeeeena! I wanna see you!"
"Okay, alright, fine," Lena gave up, and reluctantly stepped out of the small room. Both Summer and Marissa gasped, but for different reasons.
"You look…"Summer trailed off, her hand pressed to her heart, "precious! This is the dress, you have to wear it!"
"Ohmygod," Lena whispered, her eyes as wide as saucers, "Aunt Marissa, set her straight! This is the worst dress I have ever come in contact with."
"She's right, Sum, it's a…crime," Marissa stifled a laugh, "Pure and simple."
"Are you blind?" Summer gasped, "It's so freaking cute! You can't tell me that's not gorgeous on her."
"Please, for the love of Versace an I take it off?" Lena pouted, pulling at the dress as it itched her skin.
"Fine, go," Summer gave up, "But if the wedding doesn't go well, it's your fault! You jinxed it by not wearing the perfect dress."
"I can live with that," Lena assured her, as she nearly ran back into the dressing room.
"So…about your dress," Marissa announced, "What are we talking here?"
"I'm not sure," Summer shrugged, glancing around the store, "I just can't decide. Should I buy something traditional? Something simple? Something chic? What? I have no idea."
"Just try everything," Marissa suggested, "When you find the right one, you'll know."
"Sounds fair enough," Summer nodded, moving towards the racks. Slowly she flipped through the dresses, looking at each one with a critical eye. After nearly 10 racks, she still hadn't found one she wanted.
"You didn't find even one you liked?" Marissa asked, as she picked a bridesmaid dress off the rack.
"Nope, not even one," Summer shrugged, jingling her keys in her hand, "I didn't even find any that I thought we're okay. Oh god…Coop, what if I don't find a dress?"
"Summer, you've got tons of time," Marissa reassured her, trying to balance Emily on her hip, "And this is just one store. I mean you could have Vera Wang herself design you the dress of your dreams."
"The thing is, I really don't have a ton of time," Summer pointed out, a grimace on her face, "I've got less than 2 months until the actual event, which means I've got a month at the most to get a dress."
"Everything will be fine," Marissa promised, before holding up the pile of dresses with a free hand, "But as for bridesmaids dresses, those you need to pick soon."
"Oh man," Summer sighed, taking the dresses from her, "I really can't decide. How about this one?" Summer pulled out a yellow taffeta mini-dress, with a belted waist.
"You know…why don't we just go somewhere else for bridesmaid dresses?" Marissa remarked, quickly putting all the dresses back before Summer could pick any more atrocities.
The midnight sky was a choking black, and the only thing lit was the cigarette in his mouth. Perched on the hood of his car, he glanced at the rest of the neighborhood. Every year it became worse, more and more drug dealers, more and more hookers, less and less families. His family was really the only one left, at least the only one that had even a tiny normalcy left. That was all thanks to his mother though. She worked two jobs and was hardly ever home, unlike the husband she supported. Husband was such a loose term- he didn't do anything for her, didn't care about her. Heck, he'd be surprised if his stepfather cared for anyone but himself. Honestly, he wouldn't mind showing old Carlos what his muscles could do. Taking one last puff on his cigarette, he put it out and flicked it to the side of the road. Before he could get into his beat up pickup truck, he had one last thought. He was alone. All he had left was his mother, and now she was gone. And not gone as in "went out shopping and never came back", gone as in "overdosed on sleeping pills". It was an accident though, or at least that's what he kept telling himself.
"Sorry to hear about your mom, kid," Parker turned to see an older looking man, obviously offering his condolences.
"Thanks," Parker replied evenly, wondering why people even bothered. What did he care if they were sorry? It didn't change anything.
"She was a great woman," He went on, lighting his own cigarette, "Real classy and smart. Not like most people around here."
"You knew her or something?" Parker asked, half wanting the guy to let him be, but half wanting to hear more.
"Yeah, when she was younger," He explained, "Before you were born. So where you going?"
"Nowhere in particular," Parker shrugged, "As far as I can get before the motor drops out of this piece of junk."
"I hear ya," He laughed, "Mine's not much better. Why aren't you sticking around? Staying with your step dad or whatever."
"I don't really see a point," Parker admitted, "He was my mom's husband, and she's gone now, so what am I supposed to do? He's not my family."
"What about your real dad?" He inquired, taking a long drag. Parker couldn't help but wonder how he knew so much about them.
"He's dead," Parker reluctantly answered.
"Is that what she told you?" He raised an eyebrow slightly, almost amused, "I can't say I'm surprised. She really was adamant about letting him go, huh?"
"What in the hell are you talking about?" Parker questioned, standing straight up.
"Your dad isn't dead, kid," The guy replied slowly, as if Parker wouldn't be able to understand him other wise, "Anything but. He's some big contractor or some shit like that. Has a wife, kids, the whole Brady Bunch set up."
"Who the hell are you?" Parker demanded, getting defensive, "You have no idea what your talking about."
"That's what you think," He went on, "Your dad's name is Ryan Atwood. He lives in New York City. Look him up, you'll see." Dropping his cigarette, he turned and began to walk away.
"Wait!" Parker yelled, jogging after him, "Who are you?"
"Name's Trey," He shouted, "Now get out of here. You've got yourself a destination."
A/N: Dun dun dun! Sorry it took me so long to update. I had to rewrite this entire chapter. Plus I've been working on a new side project called "Title and Registration". It's an OTH/OC crossover fic that I'm co-writing with Ali-Chan. It's pretty awesome, so I recommend you guys check it out. You can find a link in either my profile or in the OTH category. Please check it out! I beg you! LOL. Well thanks for all the reviews, I love hearing what you guys have to say! So you keep reviewing, and I'll keep updating.
God Bless,
Steph